Comfort
by Lament
Summary: In the middle of the night, Danny searches for some small comfort. DannyFlack slash.


Title: Comfort

Disclaimer: Not mine. Sigh.

Warnings: Slash

Author's Notes: Danny/Flack pairing. Yeah, yeah, they've been in like two scenes together. But hey, that's more than enough to slash them. This is a one-shot. Basically, I just wanted to try the pairing. Also, I'm still trying to lock into Danny's voice. This snippet assumes a relatively new relationship between Danny and Flack.

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2:35 AM.

I close my eyes tight, and then I open them again, but the clock still says 2:35 AM. I just can't win. I got home early. I went to bed early. But guess what? I'm still awake.

This is happening way too often. I went without sleep in college, sure, but at least then I had a reason. Now, it's what? Stress? The change in the weather? Depression? Who knows? I've already gone in to work with no sleep four times this month. If I don't start getting some rest, I'm gonna wind up making a stupid mistake, and then Mac'll be all over me. Not that Mac sleeps.

It seems like the job's just getting harder and harder. Didn't used to bother me that much, but now it seems like I'm getting more and more tense when I come home from work these days. I have half a mind to quit, but I love it too much. Today, I wound up nearly tossed out a window by this guy I was interviewing. And it wasn't my fault, either. I had backup—a uniform. But the uniform, he decides to step out into the hallway to take a phone call or something, leaving me alone with this nut job…

At least Flack happened to walk into the room in time to pull me back in before I wound up kissing the pavement.

Mac tore that uniform a new one when he found out I almost…bit the dust. And then he tried to haul me into his office so we could "talk about it." But I told Mac I was tired, and I just needed to shake it off, so he let me come home early to get some rest. Like _that _happened.

Letting out a breath, I nudge the sleeping form next to me. "Flack," I say, smacking him on the shoulder, "Flack, wake up."

Groaning, Flack rolls over on his back and rubs his eyes. "Danny, do you know how stupid it is that I'm in your bed, and you're still calling me by my last name?"

My chest tightens a little, and I bite my bottom lip. I don't know why, but that kind of hurt.

Me and Flack, we've been doing this thing—whatever it is—for a few weeks now. We're both cool with it and everything, but we're kind of trying to keep it to ourselves. The last thing we need is to be harassed by some idiot at work who thinks his manhood is threatened because Flack and me spend the night together once in while.

To tell you the truth, I'm not even sure how it happened. It's like one minute we were shooting hoops, the next I'm asking him does he want to come over for pizza, and the next, we're eating leftover pizza for breakfast.

"Danny, what do you want?" Flack asks after he realizes I'm not talking.

Hearts and flowers? No, that's not me and Flack. Beer and pizza maybe? Kneading my shoulder muscle with my fingers, I say, "Nothing." Nothing that won't make me sound like an idiot, anyway.

Flack rolls over to face me and props himself up on one arm. There's not much light in the room, but I can see his blue eyes boring a hole right through me. "Don't give me that, Danny," he says, "You woke me up. Now what do you want?"

I let out a long breath. "I can't sleep," I say.

Sitting up, Flack pulls his knees to his chest. I'm sure he's trying to figure out why the hell I woke him up to tell him I can't sleep.

"You got anything in the medicine chest?" Flack asks.

"No," I say.

"Well, I didn't bring anything, Danny," he says groggily, "You got a headache or something?"

"No," I say, "I don't need any medicine. I'm okay."

Flack collapses back onto his pillow, the bed shaking slightly under his weight. "Then why the hell'd you wake me up?"

"I just...I'm feeling kind of, y'know…"

"No, Danny, I don't know," Flack says, "What the hell you talking about?

I stretch my body, trying to work out the tension in my shoulders and back. "I'm just bummed out, Flack, all right? A little freaked..."

Yanking the sheet and blanket up to his chin, Flack asks, "What? About today?"

"Yeah, I'm all right though," I say, "I just…" I sound like an idiot. "Hold me," I finally blurt out.

Flack rolls over to face me again. "You want me to hold you?"

"Yeah," I say, waiting for Flack to laugh or get up and leave or whatever.

Flack stares at me for a few seconds, and then he inches closer to me. "C'mere," he says.

I shift my body backward until I'm pressed up against him, and I feel his arm slip around my waist. After Flack settles against me, I feel…well, I don't feel a sense of peace or anything. But I feel warmer and a little less lonely. And maybe safer.

For a few minutes, I lie there, listening to Flack breath. And as I finally start to drift off to sleep, I can feel Flack—Don—softly nuzzle the back of my neck.


End file.
